Perfection is but an illusion
by Grim Lupine
Summary: It’s a strange thing, to fall in love with someone for their flaws. //oneshot// //KirkMcCoy//


Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me.

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Heroes and legends cannot be attainable; they must be a goal held up high for future generations to strive toward. In death they are larger than they ever were in life.

This is why the world only knows George Kirk as the hero that saved so many lives. They don't know that he had a chip in one of his teeth from the time he fell when climbing a tree, and kept it because he thought it added character to his face. They don't know that he had the kind of laugh that ended in a funny little hiccupping noise, the farthest thing from dignified but so infectious that anyone who heard it couldn't help but join in. They don't know that he had a temper that roused itself when anyone spoke up against his friends, and sometimes his fists came into play when words would have been more prudent.

Of course, Jim doesn't know any of this, either; he can count the number of conversations he's had with his mom on the subject of his father on one hand. These are just the things he tells himself, the stories he makes up, because he likes to think that he and his father might have had some things in common. He knows they'll never be truly alike, no matter how much he might look like him, because his father was a Starfleet hero and Jim knows what he himself is: reckless, too smart for his own good, a brilliant fuckup who'll probably end up dead by thirty out of some pathological need to prove that he cares about no one, not even (especially) himself.

He knows he's probably only lying to himself with the stories he dreams up at night: his father might have been perfect, but Jim knows better than to try for that.

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It's a strange thing, to fall in love with someone for their flaws. Only Jim doesn't think of them as flaws so much as what makes Bones _real_, someone who sweats and curses and scowls at him blackly, someone he can throw his arms around and laugh with, someone who might be a hero but is one of the everyday, tangible kind. The kind that needn't die to do good.

Bones is—_growly_ is one of the first words that comes to mind. When he gets agitated he's all scathing sarcasm and wild eyebrows, and god help anyone who gets in his way. He wakes up mornings with hair that looks like it was attacked by some form of wild animal, and he's a little more familiar with his flask than some might approve of. He hates arrogance, especially the undeserved kind, and he'll make it known with no qualms whatsoever. He's not sweet (but he's unfailingly kind); he's forgotten more than one girl's name before, due to the fact that he'd probably only groaned it out under the influence of alcohol (but he's always there on Jim's birthday, every year, wordless and comforting); he's uncommunicative, embraces paranoia as a way of life when it comes to space, and he's one of the most stubborn hard-headed men Jim's ever met.

Jim loves him so much he can't breathe for it, at times.

"If you had half a brain, kid, I'd have scared you off for good the first time you met me," Bones grumbles at him, frowning to cover the fondness thick in his voice. "Then maybe you wouldn't be bothering me at three in the morning now."

Jim grins, and feels his split lip dribble a little more blood down his chin. "I don't scare that easily, Bones," he says, and tries not to ask _what about you? How many three AM wakeup calls are you going to put up with until enough is enough?_

Bones thumps him on the head with his knuckles, then helps him to his feet. "We're neither of us perfect, Jim," he says, and his arm is strong around Jim's shoulders. "Lucky for you one of my finer qualities is I've got an endless supply of patience," he continues, smirking a bit; he knows perfectly well Jim's familiar with the amount of patience Bones _doesn't_ have. Oh, he's patient with kids and the elderly, and he's unfailingly courteous with most women, but he has zero tolerance for stupidity (and there's no doubt bar fights fall under that category). So maybe what Bones is saying is that when it comes to _Jim_, his patience might run out, but Bones never will.

"Lucky for me," Jim murmurs, swaying a bit as a bout of dizziness hits him. "Perfect's overrated, anyway."

Bones is quiet for a moment, then: "Maybe there's no such thing, kid. Maybe there's only people, flaws and all."

Jim shuts his eyes, knowing Bones will guide him. "Works for me," he mumbles, tightening his fingers in Bones's shirt.

Bones brushes a kiss against his temple, so quick Jim might not have noticed if he weren't always so conscious of Bones's every move. "Yeah, Jim," Bones says softly in his ear. "Me, too."

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